Plagued
by FlyingDovahkiin
Summary: "Plagued" takes place during the time of Jill Valentine's captivity by Albert Wesker (before Resident Evil 5 began, after the Spencer Estate tragedy). Jill was presumed dead, but we all know she was within the grasp of their enemy, Albert Wesker. What happened during the time away from Chris? Rated M for future adult themes.
1. Chapter 1

It was just like any movie with an unbeatable villain; no matter how hard we fought this _thing_, this abomination, we couldn't get the upper hand in this fight. Somehow, Albert Wesker was still alive and definitely kicking. But then again, so were _we_. There was no way in **hell** we would let him go without a fight.

Why did it seem our loss was imminent unless we sacrificed everything in this battle? Before I knew it, I was being slammed into a glass bookcase in a chokehold, my feet dangling three feet from the ground as Wesker smirked at me. Victory was at hand, and it was most certainly not in our favor. Tell us something we **didn't** know.

Gunshots rang out, drowned out soon after by the storm outside. Wesker went after Chris, dropping me to my knees, allowing me to catch my breath.

That was his first mistake. I had to make this count. Black spots assaulted my vision as I gasped, desperate to catch up with what Wesker was doing to Chris. I **had** to get back in there. I had to back Chris up. Wesker moved so fast, by the time I finally could see again..._NO! CHRIS!_

I couldn't let him die.

"NO!" My resolve was firm, my promise to protect my partner just as strong as my determination to keep all danger far from my best friend, Chris Redfield. The word "duty" didn't even begin to cover what I did next.

Apparently, the pain from being thrown against a bookcase or being hefted above the ground in a chokehold wasn't nearly enough to stop me from slamming Albert Wesker out of the mansion window, sealing our fate as we plummeted to the jagged shore far below. My heart broke when I heard him shout my name, but I refused to take my eyes away from Wesker. Unfortunately, he pulled me into him as we fell.

What did it matter? This fall was going to kill us BOTH, no matter who first took the impact. At least it wasn't Chris…getting his beating heart ripped from his chest. The very thought made my heart ache for him, knowing he would have to live a full life now without me. We were huge parts of one another's lives, despite knowing that either one of us could drop dead on a mission at any given time.

Little did we know "dropping" was literal.

I refused to let this abomination live while he killed countless innocent people. He wanted Chris dead. Hell, it was a bonus of I went with him. Now what? Within Wesker's grasp, I didn't struggle for dominance. We were both dead, and he knew it.

Wait…what was that look in his eye? My own eyes widened, now realizing that he knew he was going to survive.

My death was all for NOTHING. His smirk is the last thing I remember, before the mind-shattering pain of bones being broken.

There are countless patches of missing memory after the fall. Passing out, waking up, fainting…almost dying. Maybe I died. Actually…I think I kept dying. Something—or someone—kept bringing me back. At times, I thought Chris had found me and had come to rescue me, or that's what I hoped for. But I couldn't keep my eyes open. I think the pain knocked me out over and over again, my brain constantly being overwhelmed trying to stay alive versus knowing when my body was done.

Then I heard _his_ voice. "JILL." That sharp, impatient tone still held that commanding quality he once used as our dear Captain a time so long ago. No, I thought. Nonononono! He's supposed to be dead! Better yet…

**_How am I alive?_** This was a question I tried to ask of my…what was he now? Captor? Savior? Enemy, foe…humankind's worst foe yet. I opened my mouth, only to let out a pathetic whimper. God, I was so beyond broken that I sounded like a _chew toy_. I couldn't see anything, and I knew that I didn't want to at that point because of the pain.

"Jill." He was talking into my ear. "Can you move your hand?" My breath hitched as I tried to do so, to show him that I wasn't THAT weak, that I was still a threat, but he only sighed at my pitiful attempts. That was, until he asked the very question I had been asking myself this entire time. "How are you still alive?" He truly was puzzled by it, but at that very moment I couldn't care less. Pain. Lots of it. Happening riiiiiiiight then. Why did I have the sudden feeling that he was going to use me as an experiment now instead of putting me out of my misery? "Your vitals are…getting stronger." Puzzled was an understatement.

Somewhere a phone rang. Once, twice…Wesker groaned, walking over to where the phone was in the room. Of course, his cell phone probably didn't survive the fall. I began the painful process of opening my eyes, squinting at first against the constant migraine mess that my head was. Soon, however, I began to make out the scene before me: we were currently in a cheap motel room. Obviously, we were staying free of charge judging from the previous family's clothing still hanging neatly in the closet.

I could only hope he didn't kill them.

"The subject is on morphine." Pause. "Yes, she is still alive. I plan to keep her that way." Why? They must have asked. "She's of more use alive. Obviously." That rotten, know-it-all tone I knew all too well caused my finger to twitch. This caught Wesker's ever-watchful eye easily enough, his eyebrow twitching upward in inquiry. "I don't need excuses, Miss Gionne." That razor tone was something I would never forget. Hell, it's been FOREVER since he'd used that on Chris, let alone on me. I almost pitied the receiver now. "She needs immediate medical expertise. If you cannot provide—"

My mind began to drift once again, my eyes shutting on their own no matter how much I wanted to listen to the one-sided conversation. I felt my breathing become less shallow, and even though I was on morphine…pain once again became the culprit of depraving me of eavesdropping.

Chris was nowhere to be found in my dreams. Nightmares, instead, of Wesker plagued those once placid dreams of Chris and I walking the length of the beach below the mansion. Instead, Wesker was carrying my broken body across the span of that same beach on which we crash-landed. Blood from both of us mingled on both rock and sand, yet he kept pace. Blood or not, nothing would slow him down; that included carrying dead weight. What else could I expect?

Was Chris looking for me? Of course he was, I thought to myself. This was CHRIS I was questioning. Gods…what if—

"Jill." His voice plagued both my dreams and the real world, and in response I could feel a cry escape my lips. "I'm moving you." No, don't, I wanted to say. He didn't give me time before I could hear and FEEL the crunch as he hefted me into his arms, making way for the door. I think I was screaming…I wasn't sure. I felt the muscles in my neck working, a rumble in my chest telling me that I was indeed letting out such a sound…but my ears didn't hear a thing after he opened that door to reveal a helicopter. Were we that far away from the mansion that he would allow such a disturbance to attract attention to us?

"Take her." Wesker roughly told one of the medics waiting in the helicopter. One of them cupped a hand over my mouth, muffling whatever sound I was making at the time, while the other pulled me into the chopper. Not even a minute later, needles were stuck into my arms and both the pain and reality slipped away.

If only death followed.


	2. Chapter 2

The span of time had no limits. It almost seemed as if I was permanently in a dream, living life as I used to be before the Mansion Incident. Back then, I remember I had quite the crush on our Captain. To be honest, it was born out of admiration of his strengths and his leadership over the S.T.A.R.S. Bravo team, yet I was convinced that he too had a side to him that made him human. The plus was definitely his looks and intelligence, therefore making him unachievable. I guess wanting what you can't have is human enough, but ambition…that is a whole other side of the coin.

Imagine the severe disappointment when he betrayed us. Not just to Chris, but to me as well. Everyone we knew and worked closely with…everyone but Chris, Barry and myself, dead. How could he violate that trust? How could he break that duty code we held in such high esteem? My mind seemed to deviate from that course reality took that very day, instead taking me to the universe of _What If?_ Would Chris and I be together now? Would we have children, or would we have found different people? Would Wesker be known informally as "Al" to the rest of the team?

Or would I have figured "Al" out and dated him instead? Possibilities seemed endless, and in my dreams I explored everything put before me. Why did I investigate the alternate path of being with my dear Captain more than the others?

We could have eloped or entreated a wedding planner to give us a big wedding. _What would have been the point_? I argued. _We don't know many people_. Eloped it was. Would we have had kids? They would be pushed to be better every step of the way. You know what? How was that what I wanted? I wanted a family, and a partner that would be supportive of me. Chris would have measured up to that role readily. Why was I thinking about Al—I mean, Wesker?

The back of my eyes began to ache first, then the rest of my body followed suit. Surely pain would be the only thing to really snap me from the alternate universes that were my dreams. My hands began to tingle, as if they had been asleep for a while.

Then it all came back to me like a tidal wave. _"Subject is now conscious." _A faint voice stated from what seemed a distance. The voice almost sounded…muffled? _"Now reaching state of awareness."_

_"Good." _I knew his voice. My fingers twitched. I could almost _feel_ that smirk. _"I know you can hear me, Valentine." _ I knew he knew. _ Might as well look around,_ I thought. My eyes snapped open, and I gasped.

Or I tried to gasp. How…was this possible? I seemed to be floating in a tank full of…water? My hands made a grab for the sides, only to realize that I was naked. _Well, _I thought,_ no use being modest._ Wasn't that supposed to be the very last thing I should be concerned about? _Wait…what—my hair!_ _What the FUCK did he DO to my HAIR!? _ I turned to glare directly at Wesker, who was obviously amused. Ohhhhh, yes. He knew. He fucking knew what I was glaring about.

With one swift hand gesture, the tank began to drain. Gravity was a bitch; it seemed that I didn't know how to stand anymore. My legs wobbled in response, betraying my body weight and leaving me to collapse to the bottom of the tank while my arms worked to pull myself upright. Of course, they failed me too, leaving me to my cruel fate. Soon, the tank's door opened, causing me to cross my arms over my chest against the chill of the air against my bare skin.

Wesker waited, watching me before stepping close and offering a hand. I could only stare, shocked at the help he was offering, wondering what I had to do in return for the "generous" gesture. After a moment, he sighed. "Anytime, Valentine. I haven't got all day."

I took his hand. He pulled me up. I wobbled, and he prevented me from face-planting into the metal flooring. He led the way in silence for a while, until I had the idea to ask where we were going. "The lab." He answered, simply. Of course, this was Wesker I was talking to here. After a pause, he explained. "Tests need to be run." To be honest, I was too tired and incapable to argue with him. To think, I would have loved this chance to kill him a time not too long ago. Now that it had come I was too goddamned tired to do anything about it. I shivered, earning a quirked eyebrow. "Caught a chill, Valentine?" My legs betrayed me once more as we stumbled along, and at that point he must have had enough with helping a cripple. After picking me up, I finally answered.

"You're not the naked one." I replied, not missing a beat. He smirked, a door sliding open to reveal a pristine, white-walled lab with a single metal table in the middle of the room. Air conditioner, cold metal table, naked…wet. Incapable of even standing by myself…world's greatest enemy in the same room yet I could do NOTHING about it. Today was just not my day.

Oh. AND I was a blonde.

He carried me over to the table before grabbing the necessary equipment from a nearby counter, taking syringes from one drawer and gloves from another. Of course, my eyes wandered as I tried not to shiver, my muscles complaining bitterly at not being used for…however long it was. How long _had _it been since the fall?

An intercom from the wall nearest the door buzzed to life. "ALBERT!" That, by far, was the most ANNOYING voice I've ever heard. The man being yelled at sighed, a hand cradling his forehead as he answered back. Ah…so we both had the same knee-jerk reaction after all. Another something in common.

_Stop that. _I scolded myself. _Do NOT find common ground with an enemy that will not give up ambition. You will go down with him. _

"Miss Gionne." He answered, the edge barely evident in his polite reply.

"You PROMISED you would call me when she was awake!" Why…why must his partner be so…ANNOYING? What a nag. Luckily, Wesker kept an even tone with her.

"Time was not on our side, Excella." He said. "I must get back to work. Excuse me."

"Of course, Albert! I'll be right dow—" He got up, pressing the button on the horrible device ending the torture by voice session. One look at me made him sigh once more, putting on some gloves and standing before me to begin the assessment.

"Here I thought you were trying to torture me." I ventured. He raised a brow, but I could almost feel the amusement. "Out of all the minions we've come against, she, by far is the most annoying."

"So glad I have your approval, Jill." He replied, the tiniest of smirks decorating his lips. "Perhaps having her wake you will prove more of a punishment." I rolled my eyes, trying not to laugh outright at the idea.

"That won't last for long." I said. "Hope you are the beneficiary of her ample life insurance." He looked up from getting a syringe ready, giving me the 'don't-breach-that-line-but-that-was-something-I-a lmost-have-locked-down' look, before turning back to me, grabbing my left arm and wiping a prominent vein with antiseptic. "Why the fuck am I blonde, Wesker?" I couldn't help it anymore—I _had_ to ask. Before he could reply, in burst an extremely busty brunette clad in nothing but a skimpy dress, heels and a bun atop her head. She glared daggers at me—must have been because I was naked—before walking over to Wesker. When she began to reach over and touch his shoulders from behind, both Wesker and I tensed. That didn't feel too good for me since I had a needle in my arm and Wesker was the one holding it.

"Hello, Alllllbert." She _purred_. What a fucking attention _whore._ Jesus…one of _those._ Angry, red eyes even behind those shades _glowed_ as he looked up at me, then to the hand on his left shoulder. Luckily for the tramp, she removed her seductive little hands before he had the actual chance to murder her.

"I'm in the middle of delicate tests." He said. His temper wanted SO BADLY to be let free, but he somehow managed to keep a cap on it. "You can see the subject when she's more capable." His tone was filled with ice, leaving no room for argument.

Of course, that meant she sat in another chair and ignored all warning signs rolling off my enemy. "I'll just watch from here, darrrrling." That purr was quickly getting annoying. Wesker looked away and back to the task at hand, as did I. During the distraction, never did his hands shake or tremble in attempts to calm his rage; his hands remained carefully still during the whole fiasco. Of course, I didn't have to tell him my little observation in _her_ presence. In fact, I refused to speak as much, realizing that I shouldn't be speaking so candidly with my enemy. _He's killed millions. _I had to remind myself that this man had been responsible for the death of my friends and comrades, unleashed such a plague into our world, and sought to destroy Chris and the rest of the world in order to "save" it. Why was I joking around with this man? Perhaps relief from death and mortal wounds seemed to trigger this reaction. Perhaps being saved by him also made me react this way?

"Learning how to walk takes priority in order to continue tests." Wesker said while removing his gloves and disposing them in a white trash can next to the table. Excella smiled smugly, as if she knew something I did not. Truthfully, I knew Wesker had to divulge some information to keep her _and_ her money interested in such an investment, which meant she _did_ know something I did not. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't be the worried one…but all things considered, worrying was my burden to bear alone. The only thing I could do was keep that concern at the back of my mind, forcing myself to forget about it in their presence. No hiding was really involved—only forgetting.

"I'll show her to her room!" God. No. Please…no. What was that I was saying about forgetting whatever I was worried about? I forgot about that part the moment I cast a worried glance Wesker's way, almost a plea of 'oh-god-please-don't-leave-me-alone-with-this-woma n' filtering from my expression into his brain. The smirk he sent back sent me over, and my hands began to tremble from a sudden adrenaline rush. He quirked an eyebrow, suddenly not doubting my earlier comment about life insurance and being able to take her down even as a cripple.

"Perhaps later." Wesker said, dismissing the idea with a flick of his hand. "I will see you at the meeting." With that, he opened a cabinet, grabbed what looked to be a lab coat from within, and tossed it at me before the doors closed. "You're welcome." He knew I would never say thank you. Luckily, Excella left the room as I shouldered the coat over myself, and I noticed that I seemed to breathe easier when a) she was gone, and b) I had something to cover up with.

Taking the brief liberty to slide from the table while he was bent over some sort of tattered journal, I supported myself against the table for balance as I attempted to walk. No such luck greeted me as my feet touched the cold floor, my arms shaking as I tried to keep myself upright. Pain shot through my body from toes to fingertips, my head pounding furiously. Grunting against the pain did not help me walk any farther; the ground came up to meet me sooner than I wanted. For a minute, I sat staring at the floor in my failure to do such a simple thing. If I couldn't simply _walk_, how was I going to help Chris? How was I going to kill the wannabe god in the same room in which I sat?

How was I going to kill my savior?

"That's it then?" His voice startled me from my thoughts, my head whipping around to meet his shaded gaze. He made a _tsk tsk tsk_ sound as he mockingly shook his head. "That's not the Valentine I once trained." My breath caught in my throat at that revelation. He truly did remember the old days. _I knew, Chris. I knew he wouldn't forget. _My silence couldn't be helped, with the past we once shared a cruel reminder of why I couldn't agree with anything he was doing.

"Why am I alive, Wesker?" I asked, my back to him. _I should be dead. _His boots clicked from where he was standing over to where I was sitting, and in one swoop I was thrown over his shoulder like a ragdoll. I let out an "ugh" as he did so, the breath almost being knocked from me.

"Why, Jill," He began. "I plan to make Chris suffer." Just like that, the illusion of friendliness was broken. We were not comrades, friends, or lovers. We were not on the same team, and he was my enemy. Chris was looking for me, I knew. Only time would tell if I was findable.

"What did you drug me with?" I asked as I was put onto a bed. Despite the unfamiliar surroundings, I couldn't focus long enough to really pay much attention to details. I caught a view of Wesker's smirk as he stood straight, and from then on I knew I had finally figured it out. The talkative nature I suddenly adopted even against a man I would have done _anything_ to put an end to never once seemed strange until now.

"We're running tests on a new drug." He said, removing his black leather gloves from his coat pocket and wiggling them into place. "Believe me, we've tried every virus on you to see how your body coped with them." He shook his head, that know-it-all smirk still in place. "You will be overjoyed to know that your body is immune to every virus we've ever created."

"What…_how?_" I asked, my eyelids feeling heavy with every second that passed. "What am I on NOW?"

"Your body somehow got infected with the T-Virus years back." He continued. "You must have gotten a hold of the antidote. Instead of killing the virus, your body built an immunity to it." He paused, looking back to me. "We're testing something else that seems to take quite well to your body. Luckily for us, you are not immune to _everything._" He leaned in toward me to whisper into my ear, after taking a seat on the side of where I lay propped up on pillows. "You may be invincible to everyone else," He whispered. "but you will never survive me, Valentine." I shuddered in response, but soon glared at the shadow that retreated from my bedside as quickly as he had come. "Do well to remember that. Get some rest." The door clicked shut after him, and for the strangest reason…I fell fast asleep as soon as the last words left his mouth.

* * *

(Note) _Step one: lack of hostility toward the controller/admin of p30 drug._

_Step two: Lack of resistance to "suggestions" from the admin. Everything coming out of their mouth is agreeable, and at this point all suggestion from this person seems plausible. Hell, maybe trying out some of them would be a good idea._

_Step three: Self-appreciation at any action following a "suggestion". Good for you! You took their "advice" and you feel smarter for it. Maybe you should do this more often? Of course you will._

_Step four: Only after a prolonged time of administration of this drug to a human specimen will this happen—obeying of not only "suggestions", but ORDERS. Cut down a tree? When and where? Which way should I make it fall? What tool should I use? Thank you._

_Step five: Euphoria and self-appreciation in doing so will also be shared through an almost telepathic bond carried out by pheromones. By the way, you and your specimen will be extra sensitive with one another. FYI. This Euphoria is earned by carrying out ORDERS, and at times "suggestions". Despite personal values in what you ORDERED the subject to do, Euphoria still overpowers any possible negative emotion that could ruin your victory._


End file.
